On Bullshit and the Choke
Even before I understood so explicitly the importance of examining oneâs beliefs in order to optimally create oneâs personal reality, I found myself tracking the phases of my life through the lessons I learned in each stage. These lessons were the nexus point of paradigm shifts which allowed my consciousness to expand, as blinders of self-limiting ideas were taken off, one by one. It has been a struggle at times, and life has humbled me into a tenderness that I once would have taken for weakness, for I did not know what true strength was, but relied on the imbalanced egoâs regard for coercion and control as the basis for my wayward but all-too-common definition.
An important early realization was that confidence was a vital skill in making oneâs way in the world. It did wonders - acting âas if,â projecting an attitude that I knew best, taking on the authority of an expert, even if I only had a cursory understanding of a subject. Indeed, my early strategies for success involved large doses of bullshitting, with superficial homework to back up my assured pronouncements and decisive actions. At a young age, I saw how so much of communication was covert persuasion that seemed to mainline into our emotions and our programming. Beyond the verbal, there was tone of voice, stance and movement of the body, style of dress and presence or absence of accoutrements. I developed a knack for presentation, checking in the mirror for every little detail, knowing that each mattered. And that the power of these unspoken messages was relative to the context of me as a phenotype as well as the context of any given situation, most especially the underlying values of the various players within these exchanges. Whether to tuck in that stray hair, add that accessory, tone down or brighten up the colors, go form-fitting or loose in drape; I knew instinctively that these seemingly meaningless minutiae of dress could make a real difference in outcome. I marveled at how these signals affected most people so unconsciously, even as I found myself in a perpetual state of astounded mortification when in the role of witness rather than actor. On the sidelines, I was hyper-sensitive to the vagaries and awkwardness embedded in the human interactions I observed, and remained ever alert for red flags of potential boundary crossings. Whereas when I was in the middle of an interaction, I could be fused with it and therefore blissfully ignorant of these same vagaries. But something as innocuous as watching an interview on TV could be excruciating for me. All that silent screaming between the lines.
My initial strategy of bluster and bullshit carried me far, but could not take me to the finish line. This became evident in high school during speech and debate competitions. Weekend after weekend, I would come home from local tournaments with a trophy. Yet when it came to the state and national qualifiers, the biggest contests I could compete in, I choked. I would make it past the first few rounds, but as the pressure built up and visions of a big win tantalized, I would inevitably forget my speech and freeze mid-stride. I watched myself, helpless and paralyzed in my ambition, as my research, writing, memorization and oratory practice ad infinitum all went down the drain. Sometimes, I'd even come down with a case of laryngitis right before a big competition. Eventually, the team coach gave up on me. It was an unspoken shift, his pivot away from me as he turned his attention to others who could see it through, who could collect accolades at the highest echelons.
This rejection, however subtle, was too much for my fragile ego to process, so rather than admit to feeling devastated by the loss of an esteemed mentorâs validation, I seamlessly moved on to other pursuits, with nary a look over my shoulder. This is the instinct we use to soothe ourselves when the integrity of our worth is threatened, we avoid. We move away from, ignore information related to, create distractions, overindulge in pleasure, suddenly become fixated on something else entirely, make excuses why we hated the thing in the first place, and otherwise create intrapsychic barriers to that which we fear, namely some underlying belief we are mistaking for unassailable truth. We fear this âtruthâ will not set us free. On the contrary, the feared belief (typically some version of âIâm... not good enough/unworthy/undeserving/permanently damaged/born wrong.â) imprisons us â but only because we allow it to have that power, because we fail to examine it with clear, compassionate vision.
One could argue that avoidance is at the center of our unsustainable consumerist society, with its modern ailments of chronic addiction, unapologetic ego gratification and overall arrested development. Consumption is an effective distraction from the existential questions which underlie all human existence. And overconsumption can act as a frantic avoidance of the big Why of this life, with an extra thick layer of denial devoted to the repression of any authentic examination of our existenceâs placement within a greater cycle of birth and death. Â
So bullshitting can get you very far in this world. But without a solid base of belief in oneself, itâs mere superficial plastering over a gaping hole; it's just another tactic of avoidance. This is why repeating affirmations without first examining existing self-limiting beliefs doesnât really work, and can actually bring on an anxious, scrambling energy to our endeavors. When push comes to shove, the BS will not hold. We are constantly being tested in this way. I tend to liken it to a game of poker. Someone is always calling our bluff. I can think back on numerous occasions where I folded, where I got psyched out of doing something, only to later on realize that I was in the right, if only I had the courage and conviction at the time. My vulnerability lay within the foundations of my core beliefs, which at that time lurked as shadowy thoughts I feared and avoided.
As a therapist and a creative, I have circled back to this phenomenon of choking, wanting to understand and address the secret shame of how my high school debate ambitions petered out, and how that was followed by me folding at the first challenge to my journalistic aspirations in college, which in turn led to decades of avoidance within the milieu of hedonistic pleasure. This was not escapism with moderation, but full on oblivion and numbness to avoid the pain and loss I was inflicting on myself. Dreams deferred, spirit caged, I traded the riskiness of hope for the dismal safety of a kind of nihilism, one characterized by greedy ego strokes, a carefree affectation, and flirtations with recklessness - an end-of-the-world bravado, a distraction and disconnection from my own sadness and frustration.
In researching the phenomenon of choking, I was heartened to discover that those who choked tended to have higher IQs  Experiments showed that people who did not choke utilized shortcut thinking more, whereas the chokers liked to be thorough in their thought processes and preferred reasoning out every step. Intuitively, this latter method sounds like it would be the most beneficial. Yet what happens is the chokers overthink in the midst of challenging situations, coming up with every possible disaster scenario, thereby disrupting their in-the-moment flow. The non-chokers are not engaging as actively in their cognition and are more likely to employ preset assumptions to see an activity through. So itâs analysis paralysis for the chokers. This is why mindfulness helps, because it takes the person outside of chattering mind and into observing self. This is what the Inner Game teaches as well. Â
Its been more than two decades since my big chokes. I'm happy to report that I have been performing for the last year with minimal anxiety. Singing on stage, I have seen how the work Iâve put into developing my metacognition- a daily mindfulness practice, continual examination and optimization of my beliefs, and utilization of generative trance states through self-hypnosis and neurolinguistic programming - have made a huge difference in outcome. I would add that exploration of my values and an understanding of karmic consequences have been commensurately vital. And I am not one to preclude the use of a beta blocker to assuage the physiological symptoms.
I recently had an experience with another singer, whom I'll call Carrie, where I had the opportunity to witness choking from the outside, unfortunate and unwelcome as this was. Carrie, a young woman with a beautiful soprano voice, and I were the co-vocalists in a band workshop that met weekly over the course of two and a half months. As usual, I reached out to my fellow singer, knowing that any camaraderie between us would only make our musical gatherings more fun and easy-going. I found that my attempts to connect were smoothly and graciously deflected. A rude word was never uttered, yet it became clear to me that my singing partner was putting up a protective barrier through which I could not pass.Â
I have found so much comes up in these workshops around ego. I imagine this ego pull is even stronger with the younger generation who have grown up watching singing competitions on reality TV. It becomes more about being the best than simply being creative and enjoying the process â to the point where one can feel no joy unless one feels securely in the âbetter thanâ position. The trap of Comparing Mind.
Because Carrie was polite and smiling, I did not dwell too long on the mystery of her lack of reciprocity towards me. There were occasions where I would pick up an inkling of what was going on with her. Like the time I found my voice constricting as I was doing lead vocals on a song, right after Carrie had just done a particularly commendable rendition of one of her songs. Thatâs funny, I said to myself, itâs like Iâm choking, yet I know I donât feel a sense of unhealthy competition with the other singer. We are apples and oranges, I reasoned, with Carrie's angelic soprano balanced out by my rough-hewn alto. So where is this coming from? Thatâs when I realized that my empathic attunement had led me to absorb a projection of her own judgment.
This all came to a head the day of our performance. The band met beforehand to rehearse one last time. I showed up dressed in my rocker finest, complete with punked out stage make-up and dragon-print trousers. This was another Comparing Mind vulnerability for Carrie, who was a bigger woman (during our performance, she half jokingly apologized to the audience for blocking out the view of the drummer with her body, programmed like the rest of us to be self-effacing and contrite when faced with what are considered deficiencies within this hierarchy). The last few weeks of our band rehearsals, I had made a point of donning baggy clothes, glasses and no make-up in a last-ditch attempt to connect with her and help her feel comfortable. But for the actual gig, I did not want to sacrifice my style, my visual artistry, on the altar of imbalanced ego.Â
During rehearsal, I could see that the Carrieâs voice was unusually thin. I knew from my own experience that anxiety can tighten the chest, making it feel like a struggle to get in enough air for a normal breath, let alone the amount of air needed to belt out rock songs. I closed my eyes and asked that her strength be summoned, as if I could will it for her. Perhaps this is the lesson she needs to learn, I rued as I wondered if I could have done more. But no, I countered to myself, one can only meet someone else half-way, one cannot do the work for another. Am I meant to be her foil, then? I wondered at my role, and was glad that it was me, aware as I was of my responsibility. By not giving in to the urge to compete in this win-lose game, by staying neutral and compassionate, maybe one day she would look back on this and realize that I meant her no harm, that internalization of Comparing Mind was responsible for much of her misery. Â Â
When I got to the venue, Carrie walked up to me, explaining that her friends were the type of people to show up late. I only had one friend there myself, the law of diminishing returns in effect when it comes to inviting people to yet another gig. I wanted to shake her, tell her to stop making excuses because she didnât need to â she was fine! We talked some more and I mentioned feeling good about capping off a yearâs worth of practice with this final showcase. âWait, this is your fourth workshop in a row?â she asked, flummoxed. I sensed her surprise was more about how this information was tapping into her self-limiting beliefs, as I had told her this fact before. It was then it hit me on a visceral level, this win-lose game, that she had only been feeling good about herself in this band because all along she had convinced herself she was better than me. That as she received evidence that I was a fairly seasoned performer, as she observed my calm and self-assured manner, the data only served to make her feel smaller. In a win-lose proposition, my winning meant her losing. What a terrible game! And we have all been brainwashed to play it.
I flashed back to one of my choking moments in high school. It hadnât been a big tournament, but what threw me off was the presence of an old friend from junior high who had been part of a group of popular girls who had âditchedâ me, shunned me for not being cool enough to continue to hang out with them. This girl had sat in the audience while I presented my speech, and I wanted so badly to show her up. Instead, I choked. Her previous rejection of me had fed into my hidden belief that I was not good enough after all, and her presence had triggered this belief, leading to my failure. It would take years of inner work for me to break on through, for even acknowledging that I had low self-worth was an admission of defeat in the eyes of my swaggering ego.Â
Comparing Mind caused me to want to do battle, and yet offered no means to victory. For the energy to overcome comes from a win-win mentality, not win-lose or lose-lose. Â When we think win-lose, what happens is we are trying to defeat the part of ourselves that is afraid and chokes. Instead, what is needed is an approach of curiosity and acceptance as we attempt to understand the parts of our psyche that can hold us back â from the part that cowers and chokes, to the part that terrorizes us with harsh judgments â Â bringing compassion and nurturance in order to release the burdens carried within us.Â
On stage, we opened with one of Carrie's songs, then segued into my first song where I was on lead. Afterwards, I felt that I had really nailed it. I looked over at Carrie and she smiled at me. I smiled back. I had a winning grin, as I felt victorious over my own nerves and the limits of my vocal range. I nodded my head in acknowledgment, thinking to myself, "Yeah, you got this." Yet as our eyes stayed locked on one another, I felt Carrie's expression close off, saw crinkles of worry appear along the edge of her face. I frowned, realizing in those few seconds before our next song that she had interpreted the look on my face as being malicious towards her, like I was somehow rubbing in my victory, and that she now felt even more defeated. It was frustrating to watch how this worked, how her own beliefs barred her from seeing me as anything other than a brutal competitor. We worked through our set, with Carrie's voice fading to a raspy whisper at times. After our finale, I waited for her to turn around so we could congratulate one another. Instead, she high-tailed off the side of the stage, never to be seen again by me. The band leader said to me later, "I don't know what happened with Carrie up there. I think maybe she couldn't hear herself." I didn't know what to say, didn't want to get into it, even as I struggled with my own ambivalence towards her. May she find peace and liberation on her journey. Â
